We Have Eternity
by LJ-1983
Summary: Rewrite/Re-Post of a 2016 story. Set a year or two after Hellraiser III. Following a brutal attack, Kirsty's grave wounds and injuries are tended to by an unlikely saviour. Pinsty. May continue this on if I see fit, but for now it's a one shot.


_A/N \- Greetings. Some of you may remember this fic. It was going to be an ongoing story, but since another author here is writing about a similar situation, and I just wasn't feeling it, I've decided to ditch it. My original idea for this was that Kirsty would be taken to the Labyrinth by Pinhead following a brutal attack, where she recovers from her injuries, and he finds himself distracted by her vulnerability. I did try my best with it, but it just wasn't going as I had hoped. Instead, I've turned it into a one shot; it has the same premise, but a different outcome. I may continue this on, though, as it has certain issues that may need expanding upon and resolved._

_I hope you all enjoy it. Please let me know your thoughts. - Laura_

* * *

**We Have Eternity**

When the great bell tolled in the Labyrinth, Xipe knew that it was Kirsty who had unsealed the schism. He could _feel_ her, he could _smell_ her...her lust, her desires, her agonies..._her._

A complacent smile twitched the corners of his pale lips as rose from his throne, and he willed himself to Earth, to his most anticipated and wanted prize.

But he sensed she was not quite herself. Her desires were still there, but there was something more, something that made her soul cry out for him.

When he finally arrived, he was pleased to see he had been right; Kirsty Cotton had summoned them. But, for some reason, she was sprawled out across the ground, partially conscious. Much of her flesh was on show with her crisp white blouse in torn rags, and blood welling from wounds to her forehead, hands, shoulder, and collar bone...all of which appearing to be inflicted by a long-gone assailant.

The puzzle box was cradled in her grasp as she lay bleeding on the floor, in trembling blood-stained hands. As he drew near, her brown eyes took him in...still beautiful, but void of the life and vibrant fire she once possessed. She was probably, as humans put it, _concussed._

The Prince studied her broken and maimed form from head to toe. Then his dark eyes met hers in knowing. She never murmured a word besides a groan, but he knew. She had been horribly violated, as well as beaten.

The pin-headed Cenobite thinned his pale lips solemnly, then turned to his subordinates. "Leave us." he commanded. The Gash obeyed at once and bowed to their Lord, then did as he said, leaving their master and the Cotton woman alone.

Xipe's coal eyes settled onto Kirsty's bruised and bloodied form, inside trembling with need, and anger at the human filth who had dared to lay a finger on this exceptional creature, but on the outside keeping his stoicism intact as he approached his obsession.

As he drew closer, the hem of his leather cassock brushing the concrete floor, she did not react. Not even a flinch, or a cringe. Her eyes were half-lidded in exhaustion and agony, though her face was expressionless despite the trauma she had recently been through. This displeased the Prince of Pain; it was his place, and his task, to push the boundaries of her agony and to know it, not this faceless predatory animal.

He knelt down with intent to touch her face, but his fingers entwined in her hair, pale fingers delving into her soft brown curls, pulling just enough to make her look at him.

She seemed so human, so fragile, but she held so much power over him, even in her weakened and shattered state; Xipe could not fathom how it was possible for one human female to bewitch him with just a simple look.

Without a word, he swept the girl from the ground and carried her, bridal style, through the schism in his arms, his cassock grandly trailing behind him, and sweeping the grimy stone beneath him with each slow and deliberate step he took.

Kirsty's grazed and blood-stained lips curved into something of a weak smile, a smile of almost gratitude, before she completely drifted away, resting her head about his strong shoulder and passing out utterly in his leather-bound arms...

* * *

It was the familiar stench of leather assaulting her sinuses that stirred Kirsty Cotton from unconsciousness. When she finally came to, and she had gained a sense of awareness, she realised she was back in her apartment.

She was beneath the cool and welcoming sheets of her bed covers, and gazing downwards she noticed she had been stripped of her work clothing and was now donning a comforting and clean ivory-coloured nightgown. Looking over herself, she noted her hands - which were both tender, raw and bruised - had been wrapped up with torn strips of her shirt, and her right shoulder and arm supported by a makeshift sling.

She frowned, having no memory of returning to her home, or getting into bed. Or being injured.

So..._how_ did she..? _When_ did she..?

"Kirsty."

Now the scent of leather as she had stirred from slumber made sense.

Turning her head ever so slowly to the source of such a distinctive voice, she beheld the Leader of Cenobites himself, stood mere inches away from her at her bedside. His pierced face was a passive mask of calmness, as usual, but that did very little to comfort her.

She instinctively flinched as those obsidian orbs perused her, but she remained where she was, gathering her bed linen in a bunch with her free arm and draping it around her form, feeling slightly embarrassed and exposed in the presence of the being she could only refer to as _Pinhead._

The Cenobite's chest rumbled with a deep, low resonant chuckle. "You need not be so prudish in my presence." he murmured, his voice laced with amusement. "I have seen all manner of bared flesh long before you came into being."

Though soothing, his soft tones did very little to place her at ease.

"How..." She spluttered that word out, but then ceased momentarily to collect herself. She swallowed, and closed her eyes briefly. "How did I get here?"

The Cenobite folded his arms behind his back, and his posture straightened...as if it couldn't get any straighter. "I brought you here. Once I tended to your injuries." he told her.

She was shocked by not only that he had patched up some injuries she could not remember receiving, but that he had brought her home...rather than take advantage of her vulnerability by hauling her to his realm without her definitive consent or knowledge.

But then faint memories of being gathered in his arms and feeling quite safe following a traumatic and violent encounter in an alleyway bombarded her, and it dawned on her what had happened...and what he had done _for_ her. She had no vivid or clear memories, but she knew, and her eyes met his in realisation. She could feel the unbearable soreness between her legs, and that was a sensation she was not all that unfamiliar with.

The Cotton girl, choosing not to dwell on such a traumatic violation when in the company of the pinheaded Cenobite, shuffled into a half-sitting position, grunting a little under the pain of her afflictions.

"Rest, Kirsty. Your flesh has been through quite the trauma. As has your mind." The Cenobite's hands took her arms rather gently and he helped her into a much comfier position while her eyes watched him warily and somewhat suspiciously.

"Don't you guys usually revel in the pain of others?" she inquired sardonically.

A vague hint of a smile came to his icy lips. "Revel? No. We _explore_, Kirsty. We push the boundaries of sensation, and test the limitations of flesh." He made a sweep with one hand. "I cannot explore the tortures of your own flesh if it was not done by my own hand, and if you are unable to consent to it conclusively."

Kirsty's mouth hung agape; she never realised just how obsequious he could be.

"But...I opened the box, I think. Why am I-" She struggled to articulate the following part. She closed her eyes slowly. "Why aren't I in your realm? Wouldn't you have taken me there?"

There was a shimmer of amusement in those deep, dark pools of onyx. "Not against your will." he explained. "You solved the box, yes, but out of delirium. Not because you made a final decision to flee this world and embrace ours."

A fleeting moment of silence passed between them as she absorbed his words. She almost gasped when she felt the cold flesh of his hand touch her cheek. The leather of his thumb felt tender and comforting, and she couldn't help but lean into it.

"Our door is always open for you, my Kirsty." he said earnestly. "When you are willing and ready to cross the threshold, and once you are..." The Cenobite Prince lowered his hand, and took hers. "I will be waiting." He brought her swathed hand to his lips, brushing them against her grazed knuckles. "Until we meet again."

His leather cassock swished around his ankles as he slowly turned and gracefully moved towards the open veil in her wall that led into the Labyrinth.

The walls knitted together after his departure, leaving her alone resting in her bed. She turned her head ever so slightly, and her eyes fell upon the Lament Configuration on her bedside cabinet, twisting and sliding its segments until it finally settled back into its default shape. Despite his physical absence, she knew the Prince would be watching her from beyond the walls of his dimension, and that oddly comforted her.

With that in mind, she sighed and snuggled into her duvet, her eyes still firmly watching the lacquered box with its faceted surfaces.

"Until next time," she murmured.

**_The End_**


End file.
